Page 109 of Cursed

He laughed and slapped the Elder on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble.

Elder Craster’s bloodshot eyes met mine, and I looked away. I was tired of his moaning.

“Bring him,” I snarled.

Valen and Bastian grabbed the old man’s arms and pulled him along with us as we walked toward the path that would lead us through the cemetery to the crypts.

The Romano crypt specifically.

As we walked, the early morning mist crept between the gravestones and wrapped around our legs. Mud stained Elder Craster’s bare feet, and grass clung to his skinny ankles. I inhaled the scent of damp earth, mingled with the faint metallic tang of decay.

“Almost there,” Valen called out.

“Keep moving, Craster!” Bastian’s sing-song voice was cheerful.

The Elder shuffled forward, dragging his feet, but there was nothing but the futility of his struggle against the looming threat that awaited him.

He hadn’t even tried to use his magic.

Not that it would have helped.

As we broke through the last line of trees and stood before the line of crypts, I could feel the energy shift. The last time we were all here, we’d laid Avril’s mother to rest.

A smirk tugged at my lips.

The crypt’s heavy wrought-iron gate was closed, but unlocked, and lifted my hand and allowed my magic to flow forth to pull it open with its winding tendrils. Without looking back at my brothers.

I walked through the gate and up the stairs to the area my father called ‘the temple.’ An arrogant name that didn’t match the reality of what lay in this place.

Corpses of our ancestors.

But there weren’t many of them.

My father had built this crypt when he’d risen through the Necromi’s ranks. I dragged my fingertips over the intricate engravings on the cold marble before pressing on the hidden panel. It clicked under my touch and with a deep rumble, the heavy stone doors in the floor moved apart.

Bastian grinned as he dragged Elder Craster into the crypt. The old man’s eyes were wide with shock and he flinched as an opening yawned before us like a black maw.

“Hasn’t he been here before?” Bastian shook his head and laughed. “No, no. Look at his face— I don’t think he’s been here before!”

Valen rolled his eyes as Bastian made lewd kissing noises at Julia’s marble tomb.

“Don’t make that face,” Bastian snarked. “Shouldn’t you pay some respect to our dearly departed stepmother?”

Valen didn’t respond, and I pushed Bastian’s shoulder. “Get moving. We don’t have time for you to be a prick.”

Bastian’s lip curled. I could sense the flare of his magic, but he was smart enough not to start anything.

Valen tugged at Craster’s arm and led him down the cold stone stairs that led into the lower level of the crypt where the Black Council met.

Aside from Julia, my mother was the only other Romano buried in this cemetery. But they hadn’t interred her here—not in the family crypt. Lucian hadn’t bothered to marry her—which made me wonder why he’d gone to the trouble of marrying Julia.

The flickering light of the torches embedded in the wet stone walls made our descent into the abyss eerier than it should have been, and Bastian’s strange laughter echoed through the hallway.

“Off to see the wizards,” he sang tunelessly.

“Shut up,” I growled.

After what seemed like an eternity of descending spirals, our small troupe emerged into a vast stone chamber.

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